two
by Wolf Antlers
Summary: Gen :: They were stuck together, on the run, just the two of them.


_Happy Halloween! This is my first fic on here, but I hope to post more for you all (when I finish some more fics). _

_I forgot how awful it is navigating the Doc Manager on here, and I lust for the simplicity of AO3's set up on here._

_Anyway, I hope you all enjoy!_

* * *

The grass was soft beneath his fingers, he thought, running calloused fingers through the blades. Tom was smoking a cigarette, facing the gully and watching the smoke curl away in the breeze. Though his curls were tousled, he cut an imposing figure against the backdrop of nature. He was rather beautiful in the evening lighting. Harry pulled his knees higher, balancing precariously on the thin concrete wall of the ruin they were residing at for the hour while Tom recovered his magic from the long-distance apparation.

"Where are we?" Harry finally asked, breaking the ambience of birds settling down for the night and trees rustling in the wind. Tom looked at him briefly, clearly uncertain if he should tell Harry or not. He looked away again, sighing out a breath of smoke, and Harry watched him tilt his head back to look at the cloudless sky.

"See that house down there?" He pointed through the trees and Harry could make out a few spots of off-white through the foliage. He nodded unnecessarily as Tom continued, "I spent my summers here after I turned fourteen. We were turned out of the orphanage then, to work at the factories or the docks, but I had my Hogwarts education to complete so Mrs Cole sent me here, to live with her sister and her husband." Tom finished off his cigarette and snuffed it out on the short concrete wall closest to him. "I enjoyed living here, and after they died I bought the house with the money I saved from Borgin and Burkes. I was made here, with the death of a boy I once knew."

Despite the knowledge of a horcrux being made here, there was no taint. He could imagine the Tom from the diary he had met when he was twelve: charming the couple, feeding chickens and milking a cow, helping with baking and laundering. It was odd how easy it was to visualise it all, but it made sense; he and Tom and been running from both Voldemort and the Order for months now, trying to collect the remaining horcruxes, and Harry had picked up on just how _homely_ Tom was — a side effect from the times he was raised in.

"We won't stay long," Tom said, but Harry was certain they were to stay here for quite a while, for Tom seemed quite enchanted with the place even still, though the yard was overgrown and the animals long gone. Harry could see the old chicken run in the corner of the yard, and dog kennels were lined up against the fence, strangled by weeds. They went to the front door, ducking under a wild curtain of wisteria, where Tom dug a rusty key out from a tiny crack between the concrete steps and Harry leaned out over the verandah railing as Tom took down his older self's charms and curses. It was a lovely place, and the orchard was filled with ripe fruits — Harry knew how to make jam after a crash course from his Aunt Petunia when he was eight; he had the perfect chance to finally put the knowledge to use.

There were dilapidated rocking chairs behind him but he dared not sit in them, for he thought they may collapse with even the slightest of touches. He could see open lace curtains through the windows but nothing else — it was far too dark. Tom eventually finished undoing the charms and creaked the door open. Even in the gloom of the hall Harry could see just how much dust there was. Perhaps Voldemort had never returned after he had created Tom.

For Harry, it was like using a powerful time turner, one that took him back over fifty years. The muggle books on the tall shelves in the hall were covered in dust, and older than even Dumbledore, and even the wizard books were relics. Tom flicked on the lights and Harry was surprised there was electricity, even after all these years, but Tom offhandedly commented about automatic bank payments and goblins and Harry didn't bother inquiring further. He coughed a little and Tom cast a verbal dust clearing charm, and they dumped their bags on the kitchen table.

Now they were inside Harry could see the house better, and he wasn't shocked to realise it was just as homely as he'd imagined, excepting the large boxes on the kitchen bench, which Tom dig through while he used the charm Tom had used earlier to clear the kitchen and dining room a little of the cloying dust swirls. It was now twilight outside, and Harry shut the curtains while Tom got started on a meal involving far too many canned tomatoes to be normal.

"I can chop the onions for you," he said after, grabbing a couple of perfectly preserved onions and a knife, and Tom shrugged and opened another box, this time full of sealed tins of dried pasta.

Yes, Harry could see them spending quite a while here, in this little cottage in who-knows-where. They were stuck together, on the run, just the two of them because of some strange horcrux magic, but they could settle for a few months. He said as much, and took the murmured, "I suppose," as a victory, no matter how mild.


End file.
